


Old Wounds

by Lush_Specimen



Series: Rodiclash Getting to Know You [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24851890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lush_Specimen/pseuds/Lush_Specimen
Summary: Rodimus jolts awake in the middle of the night after a vivid nightmare about Nyon. In his panic, he tries to call Drift only to dial Thunderclash by mistake.
Relationships: Rodimus/Thunderclash
Series: Rodiclash Getting to Know You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797892
Comments: 28
Kudos: 89





	1. Nightmares

Rodimus blinked. 

It was impossible. 

He reset his optics. 

The vision remained the same. 

Taking a cautious step forward, he marveled at the brilliant world shining around him. 

Nyon. 

Nyon as it should be. Fully reforged and gleaming bright under the rays of the rising sun. Complete. Whole. No longer crumbling under the slow decay of long neglect. The ornate buildings towered above him, straight and proud. Gleaming silver streets, unmarred by cracks and free from debris, stretched out to every corner of the small city. Although never as grand as Iacon or sprawling as Kaon, it was always home. 

Whistling in appreciation, Rodimus allowed himself a tentative smile. He placed his hands on his hips and took it all in. Nyon’s glowing beauty surpassed even his fondest memories. Strolling down the pristine promenade, his smile grew. He couldn’t wait to show everyone! 

Everyone... 

Thinking about his new family aboard the Lost Light highlighted the startling silence in the shining streets. For all the overwhelming beauty, the magnificent metropolis lacked the chaotic bustle of life. Intensely aware of the quiet, every soft shift of his plating resounded loudly in his audials. Nyon was never made of glorious architecture and shining monuments. Much like the one of a kind quantum ship he captained, the true soul of the ramshackle city resided in its people. 

Ignoring the sense of dread gnawing at his spark, Rodimus wandered the immaculate streets. Surely the citizens would have been resurrected along with their city. Even if Cybertron’s rebirth only restored the empty structures, other Nyonians must have returned. He couldn’t possibly be the sole survivor of a catastrophe entirely of his making. 

Rodimus’ pace quickened as he passed by empty buildings and deserted parks. Someone else had to be here. Someone? Anyone? People he often tried so hard to forget and now couldn’t remember. Strangely, names and faces escaped him. Everything felt so tantalizingly familiar and yet so incredibly distant. Precise details slipped through his fingers like trying to gasp images reflected on oil. 

His nervous jog accelerated into a full sprint. He sped along a path he could run in his sleep, one that he ran countless times as part of Nyon’s underground rebellion. Since he didn’t have to leap over any piles of debris or duck through ragged holes in dilapidated buildings, he made it to his destination in record time, never noticing that his frantic footsteps didn’t make a sound. 

The Acropolex. Its restored magnificence stopped Rodimus in his tracks. The ancient temple complex that had become the last refuge of the doomed populace now shone like a phoenix risen from its smoldering pyre. Skirting the grandiose main entry, Rodimus jogged around the glittering structure, past the ornate golden glyphs chronicling the origin of the Knights of Cybertron. The heroic murals inspired his decision to embark on his initial quest. If he could find the Knights, then maybe he could prove some part of Nyon survived the destruction that he caused. 

Finding the small side entrance exactly where he remembered it, Rodimus smiled. He had ducked in and out of this door countless times: running supplies, checking on refugees sheltering inside, setting the charges that would ultimately bring it all to ruin. It seemed so much smaller now. A lifetime ago, the last time he walked through this door, he had a different frame and a different name. 

Still unsettlingly alone, he strolled up to the arched doorway, caution mixing with wonder. The keystone at the center of the arch shone brilliant silver with pristine sharp edges while the stone Rodimus remembered was worn smooth by centuries of pious contact. Everyone who entered through this door hopped up to touch the keystone: for good luck, for Primus’ blessing, for stubborn tradition. In his old life as Hot Rod, Rodimus had always been too short to reach it. He relentlessly practiced his vertical leap, tweaking the shock absorbers in his legs for a little extra bounce. The day he finally leapt up to touch the summit of the arch on his way in swelled his spark with pride. Nyon was his city. He worked so hard to be part of it, and even harder to destroy it. 

Considerably taller after an unexpected bonding with the Matrix upgraded his frame, Rodimus easily reached up towards the keystone. He didn’t even have to tiptoe. Chuckling softly to himself, Rodimus’ golden fingertips grazed the gleaming quoin, the heart that balanced the entire structure. 

As they brushed the keystone, sparks leapt from his fingers like he struck a flint. Rodimus gasped as they raced across the pristine temple walls, rapidly gaining strength into a raging inferno. He jumped up and frantically swatted at the flames, flailing desperately to put them out. Every motion he made only caused the fire to grow. When he landed back on the ground, sparks shot out from around his feet, blazing into another firestorm. 

“No.” Rodimus whispered, stumbling backwards, each step spawning more flames. It spread so fast. He couldn’t hope to stop it. 

“NO!” Rodimus screamed. The fire raged, unconcerned with his pleas. All it took was the slightest touch of his fingers, and Nyon burned again. 

The conflagration rose, consuming the bright streets and proud buildings. Standing in the midst of the flames, tears welled up in Rodimus’ optics. His plating twitched. He had to do something. He clenched his fists and shuddered. The fire rose higher. His every motion only spurred the inferno to burn hotter. 

His gift wasn’t for quenching fires, it was for starting them. 

Fire whirls, vortices created by the intense heat, spun about the melting buildings. A scorching wind ripped through the dying city, raising embers and ashes. 

Rodimus stood transfixed by the destruction as the whirlwind of darkling ash swirled around him. When the first pitch black flake landed on his armor, a searing jolt tore through his circuits. Although fire could never touch him, the ashes struck his plating with frigid intensity. Darker than the unexplored deeps of the universe and twice as cold, the dying remains of Nyon clung to him. Rodimus shivered uncontrollably. He struggled to brush off the remnants of his doomed city, but the ashes stuck fast. The paralyzing cold seeped into his frame. 

Part of him thought he should stay and serve poetic justice. Let the ashes cover him and leech the last vestiges of warmth from his frame. The final citizen of Nyon frozen to death while the rest of the city burned. But the other part, whether through cowardice or bravery, refused to accept that fate. 

So, he ran. 

He raced through the burning streets as if he ran fast enough, he could outrun his tears. More ashes swirled on the wind, sticking to his armor. He stumbled, tripping over his shaking limbs. Patches of black, deep as night, spotted his brilliant red and gold paintwork. Each new piece of ember froze where it struck him. Pain clouded his vision along with his tears. The faster he ran, the more ashes clung to him. 

Desperate to escape, Rodimus shifted into his speedster alt mode. As soon as his four wheels hit the solid ground, he gunned his engine. With the screaming roar of his turbo chargers, he rushed forward... 

… and flew right off his berth, slamming into the wall across his hab suite. 

Rodimus fell to the floor, instantly letting go of his accelerator. His overheating vent fans whined, echoing in his room. His room... on the Lost Light... not Nyon... 

“Oww.” He groaned, shifting back into his bot mode and rubbing the new dent where his gleaming red fender crashed into the wall. Rodimus struggled to master the uneven rhythm of his racing pistons. His hands trembled. Tears streamed down his face. He felt so terribly cold. 

Without even checking the frequency, Rodimus called the last number on his comm link. As soon as the call connected, the words tumbled out. 

“Drift! I’m so sorry!” Rodimus sobbed. He hugged his own trembling frame. “I know it’s late. I’m sorry. I- I just had- um- a dream. A really bad one. About Nyon again. I burned everything and I transformed and I wrecked and- I- I-” 

“R- Rodimus?” 

That voice. A resonant baritone slightly marred by static. The energon in Rodimus’ lines turned to ice. 

“Rodimus? Are you still there?” 

Pulling up his call history, Rodimus’ spark stopped in his chest. Thunderclash. He just called Thunderclash. In the middle of the night. Raving about a bad dream. Drift had been the only person he called directly for so long, he didn’t even think to check the frequency. 

Rodimus buried his face in his hands and vented a shuddering sigh. Ever since the dating app fiasco, he and Thunderclash started spending more time together. He really liked the big dope and the fact that the greatest Autobot of all time absolutely adored him didn’t hurt either. Thunderclash’s words about him being the perfectly right amount resounded in his brain. 

“Thunders?” Rodimus tentatively whimpered. After centuries of dealing with them all alone, he finally opened up to Drift about his nightmares. Probably because Drift told him about his own troubles first. Drift would always listen, hold him, and offer a mystical interpretation of the dreams’ details. Rodimus had no idea how to broach this topic with someone else. 

“Yes.” Thunderclash answered with gentle patience. The static lessened. Thunderclash must have reset his vocalizer. Sometimes Thunderclash's scarred spark caused glitches in his large frame, especially when dealing with a shock to his system. Like unexpectedly being jolted out of recharge in the middle of the night. Rodimus winced. He never wanted to become another source of pain for the big bot. 

“I- I-” Rodimus didn’t know where to start. Drift knew he was a disaster, a barely held together bundle of insecurities hidden beneath a charming veneer of overconfidence. While he tried to be honest with Thunderclash, he did hold a few closely guarded secrets. How is he supposed to admit that the destruction of Nyon still gives him nightmares? It happened millions of years ago. He should be over it by now. 

“I’m right here.” The genuine concern flooding Thunderclash’s voice made Rodimus’ spark ache. He knew he should just talk to him, like he did with Drift. Thunders would definitely understand, but somehow that made it worse. Burning with shame at the pain caused by ancient history, Rodimus choked back a sob. 

“I- I’m sorry!” He blurted out and hung up, hoping Thunderclash would forget about the whole thing. If he asked, Rodimus could make some joke and brush it off in the morning. 

Almost as soon as Rodimus disconnected, his comm link pinged an incoming call from Thunderclash. He never expected him to call right back. Rodimus contemplated answering. Although he never spoke with Thunderclash about this stuff before, somehow the big bot always new just what to say. 

Shivering at the vivid memory of Nyon’s dark ashes freezing his armor, Rodimus deactivated his comm link. What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t have nightmares about Nyon anymore. After all, millions of years have passed. Nevertheless... His plating twitched. The walls of his room closed in on him. His new dent ached. The dream’s chill lingered in his armor. Unable to bring his erratic engine cycles under control, Rodimus fought the overwhelming urge to flee and lost. 

Instead of answering Thunderclash or calling Drift, he ran. 

He spent plenty of time alone and dealt with his nightmares by himself before. He could do it again. Activity. He just needed to move. While the rest of his crew slept peacefully, he raced out of his habsuite and through the Lost Light’s empty halls. Engine thumping in his chest, he ran as if he ran fast enough, he could outrun his tears.


	2. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After failing to outrun his nightmare, Rodimus takes refuge under the stars in the Observation Deck. Thunderclash finally catches up with him and assures him that sometimes it's okay to feel not okay.

Rodimus ducked into the Observation Deck. He sighed in relief to find it deserted. Although it was in the middle of the night and most crew members were deep in recharge, the starlit room with incredible panoramic windows had hosted more than a fair share of impromptu sleepovers and indoor camping expeditions. 

After several laps of racing around the less frequently occupied decks of the ship at full speed, exhaustion crept into his frame. Unfortunately, peace eluded him. Cautiously checking all the dark corners for unexpected company, Rodimus finally slumped to the floor against the window wall. Despite the soft pinging of his overheated engine, the nightmare ashes of Nyon chilled his frame to the core. 

Hugging his knees to his chest, he stared out across the velvet vastness of the universe. How many times did he sneak out to sit on the cliff that towered over the Autobot base to look at the stars? He always hoped to find some celestial sign that Nyon had found peace. If everyone ascends to the Allspark when they die, then maybe all the sparks extinguished that day found a new heavenly home. The tears that he tried so hard to outrun returned, streaming warm down his cheeks. 

His spoiler hitched at the unmistakable swish of the doors opening as light spilled into the darkened space. Secretly hoping whoever entered wouldn’t notice him, he huddled further into the shadows. Rodimus scrubbed his face with his forearm and struggled to slip into the familiar carefree persona he wore like armor. His vent fans whirled. He had plenty of practice hiding this pain. 

Heavy footsteps echoed in the large room as the doors slammed shut, cutting off the light. The tension bled from Rodimus’ frame as he recognized the distinctly uneven gait. When a large shadow fell across him, a reluctant smile tugged at Rodimus’ face. How did he know to look in the Observation Deck? Then again, Rodimus supposed that one doesn’t become the greatest Autobot of all time by not knowing this sort of thing. 

“Hey.” Rodimus mumbled, still curled around himself. With anyone else, except Drift and maybe Ratchet, Rodimus would have smiled and pretended like everything was fine. However, ever since he first started messaging Thunderclash, they were honest with each other. In fact, Rodimus would rather avoid the big bot than lie to him, hence the hiding out in the Observation Deck with his comm deactivated. Thunderclash would probably see right through his forced cheerfulness anyway. “How did you find me?” 

“You love the stars.” Thunderclash answered matter of factly. Rodimus could hear the smile in his voice. After all his nightmare distress, it made his spark ache. “And you weren’t in your room or at the racetrack.” 

Rodimus huffed. He did run a few laps on the racetrack after fleeing his room. Was he really that easy to figure out or did Thunderclash know him even better than he thought? Although they had their first official date at a stargazing festival, he couldn’t recall ever saying that he loved the stars. But it was true. 

“May I?” Thunderclash asked with quiet consideration. 

Rodimus had to chuckle. He harbored no doubt in his mind that if he told Thunders “no, you may not” the big bot would simply leave, no questions asked. Rodimus considered sending him away, but by this point, he welcomed some company. He longed for a comforting hug, but he already messed that up by not comming Drift in the first place. 

He didn’t dare tell Thunderclash the reason he accidentally called him in the middle of the night. The big bot absolutely adored him and Rodimus couldn’t bear watching that adoration in his bright magenta optics darken to pity or worse, disappointment. Cold shame burned his spark like the dark ashes from his nightmare. The destruction of Nyon is ancient history; it shouldn’t bother him this much anymore. Rodimus hugged his knees a little tighter. 

“Whatever.” Rodimus shrugged without looking up. “Do what you want.” 

Rodimus had expected Thunderclash to sit down next to him. Which he did with no small degree of difficulty, joints creaking as he maneuvered his large limbs into a comfortable position tucked in the corner against the window. What he never expected was that once Thunderclash was settled, he reached over and gathered Rodimus into his massive arms, lifting him into his lap. Rodimus yelped as Thunderclash pulled him into a tight hug, resting his chin on the speedster’s helm. 

Completely shocked, Rodimus wriggled at the startling contact. Thunderclash quietly adjusted his grip to give Rodimus an obvious point of egress should he wish to leave. Somehow that tiny act of consideration pushed Rodimus over the edge. Instead of squirming away, he burst into tears and clutched Thunderclash like he might disappear at any moment. 

If his intense emotional outburst surprised the big bot, he didn’t show it at all. Thunderclash gently cradled Rodimus in his arms, safe, secure, and warm. Still shivering from his nightmare of frozen ashes, Rodimus curled against Thunderclash, drawing warmth from his massive frame. Gradually, his tears diminished, and his unsteady engine rhythm eased into a tentative purr. He smiled at the irony of their situation. Usually he warmed Thunderclash’s cold frame when his spark injury flared up. 

“Tell me about what’s going on.” Thunderclash whispered once Rodimus settled down a bit. 

Rodimus vented, practically melting into the larger bot’s frame. Thunderclash didn’t demand an explanation or ask him a question he didn’t want to answer. He simply offered an invitation to talk, one that Rodimus could easily ignore. He stared out across the glittering expanse of uncharted space. 

“Well...” Rodimus sighed, turning to watch the soft starlight play across Thunderclash’s multi-color armor. “I- I had a nightmare about Nyon...” He flinched and cast a quick glance at Thunderclash’s face to gauge his reaction. Only sadness shone in his magenta optics. Shame roiled in his spark. He should apologize for disturbing Thunderclash’s rest. “I- I’m sorry. It’s stupid. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“Why do you assume something is wrong with you?” Thunderclash tilted his head to one side like he always did when something genuinely confused him. 

“Because!” Rodimus huffed. The guilt burning in his chest made his engine rev. His voice rose with each sentence that he spoke. “Nyon burned literally millions of years ago! I shouldn’t still have bad dreams about it! I SHOULD BE OVER IT BY NOW!” Rodimus’ voice cracked. Ashamed, he shrunk lower in Thunderclash’s unwavering embrace. He didn’t mean to shout. 

“Oh, Roddy.” Thunderclash offered him the saddest smile as he rubbed gentle circles on his back. Rodimus couldn’t help but relax a bit. “The terrible things that happen in our lives aren’t hurdles to climb over, but wounds that must heal. Things that we do, things that happen to us, they can’t ever be undone as though they never existed.” 

“Wounds?” Rodimus never thought about Nyon that way before. It was always something that he had to get over, to move past. He never considered it a hurt that needed to heal. 

“And wounds hurt. Even old ones. It’s okay to feel pain.” Thunderclash nodded. 

“If memories are wounds instead of hurdles, then a million years should be plenty of time for it to heal. I shouldn’t feel this way. It shouldn’t hurt anymore.” 

“Unfortunately, there’s no set timetable for healing. You feel how you feel. Denying it won’t change your true feelings. If anything, denial just makes things more complicated.” Thunderclash smiled his sweet lopsided grin, all warmth and understanding. “It takes a great deal of strength to survive the healing process.” 

“But it’s been so long. What if it never heals?” Rodimus muttered, although Thunders had a point. He spent a lot of time feeling ashamed about having nightmares about Nyon. Which made him feel even worse. It would be a lot easier to acknowledge that burning Nyon hurt so bad. To admit that he still missed it with all his spark, without heaping loads of guilt for feeling that pain on top of it. 

“Most wounds do heal with time. Although particularly grievous wounds often leave scars. Whether visible or not. Sometimes scars hurt, for no reason at all. You’ll be going about your business when that familiar ache flares up and nothing can stop it. You have to acknowledge it’s there and weather the storm in whatever way helps.” 

“Hmm...” Rodimus absent-mindedly traced Thunderclash’s winged autobrand with his fingers, pondering the physically scarred spark hidden by the gaudy chestplate. “Speaking from experience?” 

“Maybe.” Thunderclash shrugged and stared out across the shimmering stars. “Some days are just bad scar days.” 

“Well, then... Today is a bad scar day.” Rodimus curled up against Thunderclash. It felt so freeing to simply admit that he felt bad. To not pretend that everything was fine. To not plaster a false smile over his tears. Strangely, allowing himself to feel bad made him feel a bit better overall. 

They cuddled together watching the wonders of the universe unfurl before their optics. Rodimus snuggled into Thunderclash’s arms. He was so glad that ol’ Thunders came looking for him. Calling Thunderclash by accident was the best mistake he ever made. Right after asking Thunderclash out while posing as him on a dating app. 

Eventually, Thunderclash turned his magenta optics to meet Rodimus’ bright blue ones. “Tell me a story about Nyon.” 

Rodimus flinched. The dark ashes from his nightmare swirled in his mind. 

“Not from your bad dream. Tell me about the real Nyon. Something that you loved. Sometimes remembering the good things helps.” 

Rodimus blinked. He stared at Thunderclash. No one ever asked what he loved about Nyon before. Most people were too polite to bring up the topic and those that did only offered their condolences or worse, congratulated him for being able to make the tough call. He never had the chance to talk about his good memories. Things were tough, but he loved his city and his people. Drift once told him that his pain over Nyon’s destruction showed how much he truly loved it. If he didn’t care so deeply, it wouldn’t hurt so bad. 

“Only if you want to share those memories.” Thunderclash added quickly, mistaking Rodimus’ silence for reluctance. 

“You know what? I think I do...” Rodimus smiled, fondly recalling the keystone he worked so hard to be able to touch. 

“Well then,” Thunderclash shifted cozily into the corner next to the window. He snuggled Rodimus close and smiled. “I would love to hear it.” 

“Back then, I was much shorter but no less handsome.” Rodimus genuinely grinned, feeling more like himself since he woke up crashing into his wall in his alt mode. The sharp pain in his fender dulled to a subtle ache. 

“It’s one of the few constants in the universe.” Thunderclash nodded appreciatively. 

“I knew you’d understand!” Rodimus laughed. He settled against Thunderclash’s broad chest. His engine purred, matching the big bot’s contented rumble. 

Rodimus began a tale of a Nyon very different from the one in his nightmares. One that was broken and disheveled but filled with love. His people didn’t have much, but they cared for each other when no one else did. The longer he talked, the better he felt. Sharing small, happy memories, Rodimus stared out across the stars. Somewhere amidst the dazzling points of light, he hoped the lost sparks of Nyon found peace. 

The celestial light sparkled on his polished topcoat, bright reds and golds with nary a black speck in sight. Nestling back into Thunderclash’s warm embrace, Rodimus smiled. Although he will always bear the painful scars, at least to tonight, he finally found a tiny bit of that peace for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> I appreciate your kudos and love reading your comments!!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at: [lush-specimen.tumblr.com](https://lush-specimen.tumblr.com/)


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